Stephen Bly's Horse Dreams Trilogy: Memories of a Dirt Road, the Mustang Breaker, Wish I'd Known You Tears Ago

by Stephen A. Bly

  “You think so?”

  “Yep.”

  “You mean, Develyn Gail Upton Worrell just rode a horse up a western trail that no one has ever ridden before?”

  “Most likely. You’re a trailblazer, Devy.”

  “You know what is so great about a crisis? It feels so wonderful when you finally get out of it.”

  “You talking about Quint again … or the trail up the canyon wall?” Casey challenged.

  “Both, Ms. Cree-Ryder. Can you lead us back to the truck from here?”

  “I can do that, if you promise no side trips.”

  “There you go again … always holding me back.”

  “Come on, Ms. Worrell, there isn’t a cowgirl or a cowboy in the world that could hold you back from anything.”

  * * *

  They rode straight into the yellow sunlight of a cloudless Wyoming day. The showers the night before had cleaned the air and swept the prairie free of tracks. The wind, now at their backs, had dried the mud enough that it would not collect in the hooves of the horses. Casey Cree-Ryder led the way. Uncle Henry trotted next to Develyn and My Maria.

  “OK, Ms. Worrell, what do you want to do today?”

  “Eat until I’m stuffed. Take a long, hot bath. Wash my hair. Sip on a Starbucks while I get my fingernails done, then I’d like to lie out in the sun, read a good book, and nap.”

  “Really?”

  “It sounds wonderful.”

  “I’ve never had anyone do my nails. I’m not the fancy nail type person.”

  “You should try it once, just to see if you’d like it.”

  “Would you go with me? I mean, I’d feel like cat at a dog show if I went by myself.”

  “Let’s do it. Let’s go get all pampered.”

  “How much will it cost me?”

  “It’s my treat,” Develyn insisted.

  “I don’t want to do my toes. No one on earth sees my toes.”

  “What’s wrong with them?”

  “I’ve been horse-stepped so many times, every toe has been broken more than once. The doctor once said he’s seen riots more orderly than my toes.”

  “OK, no toes,” Develyn said.

  “Where will we go?”

  “Where can we go and soak in a tub?”

  “You mean, rent a tub?”

  “Or a whirlpool, or a hot springs.”

  Casey turned around in the saddle and put her hand on Popcorn’s rump. “Thermopolis! That’s the whole reason for the town. They have a big hot springs just north of town and everything.”

  “How long does it take to get there?”

  “Are we going today?”

  “Yes.”

  Casey scratched her neck. “Maybe a couple hours from here. Not much more than an hour, after we get to the rig.”

  “Then that’s where we’re going.”

  “We aren’t going back to the cabin?”

  “Nope.”

  “Are you still running away from Quint?”

  “Of course not. I’m just thinking of something peaceful to do. And I want to call Delaney as soon as I get a signal.”

  “Devy, it can’t be much later than 7:00 a.m. in Indiana. When does Dee become functional in the mornings?”

  “About 11:30. I’ll wait. Casey, do you think three of us can squeeze into the cabin?”

  “Sure, I’ve slept a dozen cowboys in a cabin that size.”

  “Cowboys?”

  “There is nothin’ in the world safer than bein’ the only girl with a dozen ranch cowboys. They will pulverize any inappropriate behavior. But there is nothin’ more dangerous than being with one ranch cowboy. Anyway, you are talking about Dee, I suppose.”

  “I wanted to invite her to come out.”

  “That would be wonderful. I’d love to meet her. Is she just like you?”

  “She is absolutely nothing like me.”

  “Does she look like you?”

  “Actually, she looks like you, Casey … only white.”

  “Poor thing, she can’t help having pathetic skin. She must get it from her mama. Hey, this is exciting. Do you think she’ll come?”

  “That’s the big question.”

  “Does she like to ride?”

  “Harleys.”

  “Motorcycles … wow, she isn’t like you, is she?”

  “She is stubborn and opinionated and has a tough time saying ‘I’m sorry, I made a mistake.’”

  “I like her already!”

  “Lots of time in the last few months, she has utterly hated me.”

  “She still blames you for her father’s heart attack?”

  “I think so. Part of it’s her struggle. I think she wished she had time to tell him more, and now that’s taken away. Anyway … there are always two sides to a story, and you’ve only heard mine.”

  “What more is there to know?” Casey pressed. “He was a jerk who more than once cheated on you, including with your daughter’s eighteen-year-old friend.”

  “And I, sweet Casey, don’t have any idea if I know how to love and take care of a man.”

  “Whoa, that’s a radical thing for a woman married over twenty years to say. Is that why you ran away from Quint?”

  “I didn’t run away. I just backed away quietly.”

  “Whatever. Who am I to talk? I don’t know how to take care of a man for twenty minutes.”

  “You just haven’t found the right one, sweetie.”

  “That’s what I’ve told myself for thirty years.”

  “Today, we don’t have to find a man. We just need a soak in the hot springs, get a latte and a manicure.”

  * * *

  The sun rose quickly, and the wind was at their backs most of the way. The trail led them away from Sage Canyon, and all they could see was rolling sage prairie, antelope, and the distant Big Horn Mountains to the north. As they swung to the south, a few oil wells and natural gas pumping stations popped up on the horizon.

  Develyn followed Casey down to a narrow stream. “Is this Crazy Woman Creek?”

  “Yep.”

  “Do we need a splashology stop?”

  “I think we are muddy enough, don’t you?”

  “We are a mess. Do you think we can sneak into Thermopolis without anyone seeing us?”

  Casey dove her hand under her serape and scratched. “Nope.”

  “At least we won’t see anyone we know.”

  After walking the horses a while, they remounted and started up a gradual climb.

  “Countess, are we about there? My backside feels like hamburger.”

  “Oh, it is so difficult to get hearty servants these days. Back in the old country, the help was much … wait a minute … for my Cree grandma, this is the old country.”

  Uncle Henry let out a bray, then trotted ahead of them.

  “Does he sense we are getting close?”

  “Either that or he smells the smoke.”

  “What smoke?”

  “You don’t smell the campfire?”

  Develyn stood in the stirrup and took a big gulp of air. “No.”

  “How sad. You white girls can’t sing, can’t dance, can’t smell, can’t jump, and have pasty skin and hair that has to be colored to be attractive.”

  “And, my bronze bombshell friend, your point is?”

  “It’s a miracle that you find anyone to marry you.”

  “Casey, you don’t know how true that is.”

  Cree-Ryder crested the hill in front of her. “There’s a campfire, and it’s right next to that red Dodge pickup.

  “You don’t have a red Dodge pickup.” Develyn galloped up next to Casey. “Renny? What’s he doing out here?”

  “I doubt if he’s looking for me, Ms. Worrell.”

  “I’m not going to let him see me like this. I haven’t had makeup in two days.”
>
  “I haven’t had makeup in ten years.”

  “Yes, but you are a natural bronze bombshell.”

  “Point well-taken. Pull that blanket over your head. I’ll do all the talking.”

  * * *

  Renny Slater squatted next to a sage fire. He glanced up, but didn’t stand. “Mornin’ ladies, you out early … or did you ride all night?”

  Uncle Henry trotted up and scratched his head on Slater’s side-view mirror.

  Casey Cree-Ryder swung down out of the saddle and tied Popcorn to her horse trailer. “You cookin’ breakfast, Slater?”

  “I had me a couple of eggs and some ham. You want me to stir you up some?”

  “How many eggs do you have left?” Casey asked.

  “I’ve got ten left,” he replied.

  “Cook ’em all,” Develyn groaned as she eased herself out of the saddle.

  “You saddle sore, or did you get run over by a train?”

  Develyn slapped her hands to her hips. “Slater, if you want to live to see noon, you will not mention my looks again this morning, is that clear?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he grinned, revealing two deep dimples. He broke eggs into the black iron skillet.

  Casey tied up My Maria, and the ladies pulled the saddles from the horses.

  “Did you come out here looking for us?” Develyn asked.

  “Yep. This was my assignment.”

  “Assignment?”

  “Quint Burdett called. Said you failed to come in, and he got a delirious phone call.”

  “Delirious?”

  “Said you were babbling on incoherently. He was worried about you when you didn’t show up by dark.”

  “I told him I wasn’t coming back.”

  “Well, he called me up and since I was in Lander, I was to start this way at daylight and check out the trailheads. He asked Tallon to scout east of Argenta, and Cuban and the hands at the ranch swept south from the headquarters.”

  “And Quint?” Casey said. “Where was he going to look?”

  “In Powell, I reckon. Anyway, he had some kind of a rangeland meeting up there.”

  “He surely was worried. He sent all of you out, but went to the meeting?” Casey asked.

  “I think he’s the state chairman. He said to call as soon as any of us had word.”

  “Incoherent?” Develyn grumbled. “I thought I made myself perfectly clear.”

  “Oh?” Renny one eyebrow. “Is this a lover’s spat?”

  “Not lovers,” Develyn replied.

  “I should have known.” He beat the eggs in the skillet. “By the way, would you want to tell me where you’ve been all night? I’ve seen bronc riders catch a foot in the stirrup and get drug around the arena that looked cleaner than you two.”

  “Slater, you might as well crawl into that fryin’ pan,” Cree-Ryder said. “You’d be safer in there.”

  “We had a really delightful time at a slumber party,” Develyn announced.

  “Yes!” Casey added.

  Renny pointed his fork at the package of meat. “How much ham do you want?”

  “The whole hog,” Casey replied.

  He unsnapped the sleeves of his shirt and rolled them up to his elbows. “I take it they were short on refreshments at the slumber party?”

  Develyn could taste the thick aroma of frying meat. “Yes, and we were out longer than we planned, but we weren’t lost, just enjoying the Wyoming prairie.”

  “I trust you got out of that rainstorm last night.”

  “We were quite snuggly,” Develyn bragged.

  “There isn’t a room or a house between here and the highway twenty-five miles west of here. Where did you stay?”

  “Now, Renny.” Casey squatted down next to him. “Girls don’t have to give away their secret rendezvous sites.”

  “You’re right, but I’d better phone Quint and tell him you are secretive but not delirious this mornin’.”

  “Did he really call us delirious?” Develyn asked.

  “Just you, Miss Develyn. He thinks Cree-Ryder is crazy all the time.”

  Casey laughed. “I’m glad he sees some things accurately. You got some forks for us to eat those eggs with? If not, we’ll just eat them with our fingers.”

  “Renny, I’ll phone Quint. You get ahold of Tallon and Cuban if you can. I don’t want them wasting the day.”

  Slater turned over the sizzling ham. “I’ve got to go back to the highway for my phone to work.”

  Develyn pulled her phone out of her pocket. “Looks like I have a signal. I’ll be right back. This needs to be a private conversation, incoherent or not.” Develyn hiked toward Casey’s horse trailer, then turned back. “Renny, Casey and I are going up to Thermopolis after breakfast and soak in the hot springs, then get our nails done. You want to go with us?”

  “Two beautiful cowgirls are inviting me to soak in the hot tub?”

  “Hot springs,” Casey corrected.

  “I’ll go, but only on one condition.”

  “What’s that?” Develyn replied.

  “I don’t have to get my fingernails painted.”

  Burnt, tough, and drenched in Tabasco, they were the best eggs Develyn had ever eaten. While the makeshift poncho dragged the dirt, she squatted next to the small sage fire and scraped her tin plate clean. Her straw cowboy hat blocked the morning sun. The back of her hand served as a napkin. She reloaded the plate.

  “You cook a good breakfast, Renny,” she mumbled between bites.

  He stood, then shook his head. “Ms. Worrell, no one at that Riverbend Elementary School in Indiana would recognize you right now.”

  “You think the hat would fool them?” She fanned away the smoke with her hand and motioned Casey to pass the tin coffee cup they shared.

  “Plus the mud on your face, the matted hair, and that wild look in your cat-like eyes.”

  She turned to Casey. “Countess, have you got any idea what this peasant cook is babbling about?”

  “No idea in the world.” Casey pointed her hunting knife at the black iron skillet. “You want to wrestle for that last piece of ham?”

  Develyn rubbed her upturned nose with her fingertips. “Sure. Guns or knives?”

  “Bare knuckles.”

  “Sounds fair. I suppose we slug it out until one of us is unconscious.”

  “Wait!” Renny squatted down and cut the ham slice into two pieces. “There, you can each have one.”

  Casey stabbed one with her hunting knife.

  Develyn reached over and plucked the other one up with her fingers. “You know, I’ve always heard that men get a thrill out of watchin’ two women fight. I can’t understand why he panicked.”

  “Are you questionin’ Renny’s manliness?” Casey jibed.

  “Oh, no, never tick off the cook. That’s lesson number one, when you’re on a trail drive.” Develyn folded the ham and scooped up more of the eggs, then jammed a big bite in her mouth. “Hmmm hpmth, clemp nah whtmp isnna.”

  Casey laughed. “You might want to try that again when you’ve chewed your food.”

  “If Quint could see me now, he would be convinced that I am having a mental meltdown.”

  “Is that what he said on the phone?” Casey asked.

  “He said I should call Lily, because she’s the only one who could talk sense into me.”

  “Is that your pal back home?” Renny asked.

  “Yes, she’s been there for me for years.”

  Casey stabbed a bite of ham with her hunting knife. “What else did ol’ Quint say?”

  “Let’s see … he said maybe I need to get this idealized cowgirl thing out of my system. Make sure I don’t do anything I’ll regret later. And eat my vegetables.”

  “He said that?” Casey motioned for the coffee cup.

  “He said it was important to eat right when under stress. T
hat and a few other things.”

  “What other things?” Cree-Ryder asked.

  Develyn continued to shove food in her mouth. “Renny, don’t some men look for a wife who is just like their mother?”

  “I reckon so. My mama’s a fine lady, that’s for sure.”

  “What other things did dear ol’ Quint tell you?” Casey interrupted again.

  Develyn wiped her hands on her poncho. “But I have never heard of a woman looking for a man who was just like her mother.”

  Casey waved her knife over the sage fire. “Are you ignoring me?”

  “You saying Quint is like your mother?” Renny pressed.

  “Sometimes he seems to want to control my life just like my mother.”

  Renny sipped coffee from a blue tin cup. “I think people like that are well intentioned. I reckon they surmise they are making your life better.”

  Casey stabbed the knife through Develyn’s poncho and pinned it to the dirt. “What else did Quint say?”

  Develyn pulled out the knife, wiped the blade on her jeans, then tapped the tin cup. “Renny, darlin’, would you be a good cowboy and pour us another cup of coffee?”

  Slater shook his head. “Maybe Quint is right about you.”

  “Well?” Casey pressed.

  “He said the usual. He loved me, missed me, and just knew that everything would settle down after we are married.” Develyn took the steaming tin cup from Renny. “Did you ever put Tabasco in coffee?”

  “Yeah,” he nodded.

  “Is it good?”

  “No.”

  She sipped the coffee and passed it to Cree-Ryder. “He’s still countin’ on you marryin’ him?” Renny asked.

  “So it seems.”

  Cree-Ryder took a sip and handed the cup back to her. “What did you tell him?”

  “That I didn’t think marriage was on my summer calendar.”

  “Wait a minute,” Renny said. “You mean you are not goin’ to marry Burdett?”

  Casey flipped her black bangs out of her eyes. “Of course she’s not. That leaves you an open barn door, mustang breaker.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “What did you mean?” Casey probed.

  “I just meant, I thought Quint is quite a catch.”

  “I’m not sure who was catching whom. Do goldfish like being goldfish?” Casey blurted out.